


Aftermath

by Siver



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Doomed Timeline, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tragedy, self indulgent angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: He failed and they were all gone. A What-If that wouldn't really happen, but a look at a doomed timeline Cabanela that survived with the Police Chief and Lovey-dove to help look after things.





	

Four funerals. The first for their daughter. He knew he said things, couldn’t remember what. The second for student and friend. He knew he had said some words then too; none of them matched up to the energetic woman she had been. The third was small and private. The man knew few people and would likely snort at a big to-do anyway. He was mostly quiet then. He would have preferred that.

The fourth for a dear friend privately attended by very few who knew the real truth. There was little to be said or there was too much that defied speeches. It had been a silent affair.

He might have appreciated that. He was always the quieter one. Quiet but with a loud laugh.

He missed that laugh.

Cabanela was alone now standing before five graves.  Three together a family again. Two nearby - they might as well have been family.

It was strange standing there now. Some part of him kept expecting to run into them, to see Lynne at work, to visit the maintenance office, to hear of Kamila, to keep working on Jowd’s case.

It was over. Truly over.

He told himself that with the Manipulator gone there was no knowing when danger would strike. They had to stay vigilant. And so he had spent the past few days being as busy as humanly possible forgoing any break or pause he could, resting only when he couldn’t stay awake any longer.

Long days. Longer nights. If he focused on nothing but work he could almost forget.

Not now. The dreaded pause had come and he was face to face with the reality of the situation.

He shook as though all the threatening emotions rattling inside him were bursting to break out. Five stones. Four fresh plots. Each stood as a reminder.

He broke.

His hand covered his mouth. Eyes shut tight, knees weak, he sunk to the ground. He clenched the grass in a death grip as the tears flowed freely.

They were gone. They were gone, gone, gone. He couldn’t save Jowd. He couldn’t save any of them. They’d left him. He was alone. He failed. He failed and lost. Lost everything.  

Time seemed to stop, or maybe it was passing quickly. He couldn’t tell, his mind and gut twisted in anguish. The thoughts he’d kept himself busy with fell away leaving all bare. Their names repeated in an endless circle melding with loss and failure until they became a jumbled mass in a soundless scream.

Eventually a hand touched his shoulder. He startled and peered up through blurred eyes. It was pouring; he hadn’t noticed. He was soaked, but the rain wasn’t hitting him anymore. The Police Chief stood by him holding an umbrella over them both. He gave Cabanela a sympathetic look.

“I figured you’d still be here even with this coming down. Should get inside. I can give you a lift home.”

A small part of Cabanela screamed at him to pull himself together - he was the sparkling unflappable Inspector. He ignored it. Old habits didn’t matter anymore. He took a gasping breath and slowly rose to his feet. He bowed his head to avoid bumping into the umbrella.

A short broken laugh scraped out of a throat raw from crying. Too tall. He was too damn tall. It never mattered before; he was usually the holder. Ha. The Chief gave him a puzzled worried look. Cabanela could only shake his head in reply.

His gaze slid back to the graves and became fixed again. Only a sound from the Chief shook him back out of his daze and he followed after as they left the graveyard.

The rain continued to pound down as they drove. Cabanela leaned his face on one hand and watched the streaks run down the car window, blurring and softening the world around them. It was silent except the sound of the rain and the sound of the windshield wipers until they suddenly came to a stop at an intersection.

“Pub first,” the Chief grunted.

“Mm,” a noncommittal reply from Cabanela. Why not?

They took a small private table in the corner of the pub. The Chief set a beer in front of Cabanela and sat down across from him with some water. Cabanela shivered as the warm air reminded him just how wet he was. He loosened his coat, his white coat, his pride…was it ever really white? He took a gulp of beer to cover his sudden discomfort.

The Chief mimicked him and set down his glass with a thunk and a grimace.

“I want you to take a leave of absence,” he said gruffly.

“Now is not a good time,” Cabanela replied flatly. “The Manipulator’s powers, we still don’t know what that country is up to-“

“The whole unit is on them,” the Chief interrupted. “You’re not a one man army.”

“I...!”

“I checked over your records. You haven’t taken any vacation time these past five years. You’ve more than earned it and under these circumstances you need it.” He took a gulp and took in Cabanela’s dark look.

“Look, I know what you’ve been doing these past few days. You can’t keep it up. Something’s going to snap and I’d rather it not be you. Or someone else.” He snorted. “Cops are terrible gossips. I’ve heard what’s been going around. Frankly I’m surprised you haven’t laid someone out yet. No one could blame you, but it’s not something I want to deal with.”

His jaw set but his eyes grew softer. “This has grown too personal. Stand down for a couple weeks. Take care of yourself.”

Cabanela frowned into his beer. Rationally he knew he was right, but it was the last thing he wanted.

The Chief sighed. “I’ll make you a deal. If something comes up that I really think needs your attention we’ll call you back in. Deal?”

“I can’t wiiin this one, can I?” Cabanela said quietly.

“Not this time, Inspector.”

“One week?”

“Two,” the Chief said firmly, “at least.”

Cabanela finished his beer with a sigh. Another was set in front of him. He raked his fingers through his hair. A drink was taken. And another.

“It wasn’t supposed to…” he murmured and swallowed the rest of his sentence before everything welled back up. He avoided looking at the Chief. He stared blankly into his cup, empty. He’d never been good at holding his alcohol unlike Jowd… Jowd… now seemed like a good time to take advantage of that.

He was given a third. Good. He drained half of it before dropping his face into his hands with a shiver. “They should still be here,” he whispered. “I… I… let them di…” He grit his teeth over the word.

The Chief leaned forward and awkwardly clapped a hand to his shoulder. “You did what you could, more than anyone could expect. We’ll catch them.”

“It wasn’t enough,” he hissed. “Gods, nowhere near.” His fist slammed the table. “I couldn’t even prove his innocence in the end. He died a criminal!

“We still don’t know why they went to Lynne’s apartment,” he raged. “Kamila should have been safe! I should have kept a closer eye on Lynne. I…” His chest heaved. He could imagine the prof’s stern frown. This wasn’t doing anything. He took a shaky breath and clenched his jaw. The Chief sat by silently, one small mercy.

Cabanela finished the beer. “Home…” he muttered.

The Chief nodded and they both rose.

It was still raining hard by the time they reached Cabanela’s home. The Chief walked him to his door.

“If you need anything…give me a call.”

Cabanela gave a short nod. The Chief turned and left and Cabanela slipped inside. He fell back against his door and sunk to the floor until the damp became too much. He peeled away his coat, left it lying on the floor with his scarf and stumbled into his living room where he collapsed into his couch and stared at the ceiling.

There was a fluttering of wings and he felt Lovey-Dove land next to his head. He reached out and stroked her head.

He turned slightly to look at her. “Just youuu and me… what do we do now?”

“Coo.”

His gaze flicked back to the ceiling and he threw an arm across his eyes. Off the job for two weeks. There were still some things he could look into himself. And… And… he could feel the grey edges of exhaustion closing in. There had been days like this in the past, days that felt particularly hopeless during his five years’ pursuit, but shaken off the next. This felt far, far worse. Lovey-Dove cooed gently in his ear.

Cabanela turned his face into the couch, felt Lovey-Dove settle in beside him and drifted into an uneasy sleep watched over by the small bird.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure about even posting this honestly - sheer self-indulgent angst because I don't really see how Cabanela would survive and of course it all gets reset anyway. Buuut, I had a couple scenes in mind and then I wanted to give the Police Chief a little attention too. And, I figured why not? Spread some not so good cheer. 
> 
> And some Lovey-Dove because the pets are the real heroes here and while she doesn't get to be on Sissel and Missile's levels, darn it she gets to help too.


End file.
